Getting me my rose back
by Rivergirls Anthem
Summary: So that's what this is all about? Getting me my rose back?" Michael/Sara, where season 4 might take s them. I couldn't resist writing this. Please review? chapter 4 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : Hey everybody! Ok, so I just finished watching season 4 eps 1 & 2 and am HOOKED! I LOVE season 4, I really really do - - then again, MiSa reunion, so why wouldn't I, right? -- **

**And... well, one thing led to another, ergo : "Getting me my rose back", my MiSa season 4 fic. People who have seen the first two eps (if you haven't, ask me, I found them somewhere online, seeing as I'm not a US resident, I had no choice) will recognize some of the lines & bits from the first two eps. So I don't own them; However, I twisted the story a little, edited the conversation, made it a little more lighthearted. I had to, my fingers were telling me to! (gasp) **

**Anyway, I really really really hope you like it. Please let me know? Pleaaase review? It means the world to me!**

**xo**

* * *

Sara

She remembered the first time he had kissed her. The way that, in the late morning light that made its way to the infirmary, his face had neared hers and after the sharp intake of a breath their lips had met. She had never forgotten that one, foretelling sound…it was as if he was getting ready to leap, preparing himself for the fall. And the way she'd felt : trapped between the surging of blood through her veins and the ice cold creeping of the warning into her mind. At that time, Sara Tancredi had wanted nothing else than to put her hands on him, feeling his warm skin and the wild throbbing of his heart.

When he kissed her now, here…on this bed that had kept her warm for weeks yet had never sheltered her because he had always been missing from it…he wasn't leaping or falling into her – she knew that to him, just as it was for her, it was like coming home. Yet there would be a distance separating the two of them, hidden in their denying smiles and soft touches – they'd been away from each other, and the physical hurt it had caused them would vibrate in the air. But it was not yet here, she told herself, and they still had time to bask in eachother's warmth and love and words. She would enjoy it while she could.

She touched her fingertips to the folds of the origami rose he had returned to her, trying to ease its memories and make room for the new, happier ones. After all this time, they finally had the chance to be together. The one dream that had followed her everywhere she went would now become true. Amidst all the obstacles and all the plans and all the failures and successes, she would get to hold him.

-

Michael

"I love you. That's all I know right now…" He told her, and knew that it was true. She was all that mattered to him and the vision of her standing there, the whiteness of her shirt like a beacon calling out to him, would never leave him. Her hair had been so soft as he held on to it, and the taste of her lips…he'd come home. At last.

His heart broke when he touched her shoulders and she shook with a violent terror, the memories flooding right back in because of the tips of his fingers. He knew she wouldn't want him to blame himself, but he couldn't help it. He should have been there for her, protected her from the darkness instead of only holding the Polaroid close to his chest and praying she was alright. If he had done that, if he had tried harder, gotten out sooner – these marks on her back wouldn't be there right now, and she would ease into his embrace immediately.

"It's just what they do. And they won't stop. And I don't know how to deal with that."

He crouched beside her, cupping her face in the palm of his hand. "I'll keep you safe, Sara. I promise you…"

Sara let out a soft smile. "Yeah?"

Michael nodded with a sigh and grinned at her, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "You're right on top of my 'to do' list."

And when she laughed, he felt happiness swell inside of him. If there was one thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life, it was making her happy, making her laugh by saying things, or doing things. If he'd make her happy by falling face down into the mud, by god, that's what he'd do.

"Wow." She smiled. "And to what do I owe this great privilege?"

He cocked his head. "Well, it helps that I love you…"

Her eyes glazed over, yet this time, not with tears, but with emotion. "You know," she said, "I may very well love you too, Michael Scofield."

"Oh?" He quirked his eyebrow. "So what do you think my chances are?"

Sara

"Hmm.." she leaned into him, smiling mischievously . "about a million-gazillion percent." Her lips sought out his, capturing them after the slow chuckle that he uttered. "Michael…" she whispered, pulling back a little, trying to meet his eyes. When the opened and stared right back into her own, the intense gaze he gave her was making her feel weak in the knees. "I love you so much, I…"

She swallowed hard, attempting not to cry. _Damn it, Sara, there you go and ruin to playful mood again._ But she _had_ to, she had to tell him exactly what he meant to her before he was ripped out of her life again and the possibility of him being alive and holding her like this would become slim to none.

And then it happened.

The bullet flew right through the window, shattering the glass, making it fall around them like rain. The storm had arrived, and all they could do was run in the hopes of finding shelter. For the both of them, this time.

--

_I love you I love you I love you_

_Please don't leave don't go don't go_

It was like a mantra inside of her head, screaming at him without a sound. This couldn't be it for them, not like this. There was no place safe, but he was her homestead and wherever he went, she went. She ran behind him, out of the room and the yard and the cold hallway. She leaned back to breathe, the wall steadying her.

When he spoke the words, so resolutely, they reverberated through her like a one-time electrocution shock.

They were going to fight back.

Together.

* * *

_So? What did you think? Please tell me you like it, please? Pleaaase? (begging here)_

_XO_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : Hey guys, so here's the second chapter of my season 4 misa story. Please tell me if you like it ? Please? I really really hope you do.**

**XO, as always**

**Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed the 1st chapter. It meant the world to me!**

* * *

Michael

"Michael?"

A soft knock and the sound of her voice startled him, roughly tearing him away from his musings. He violently wiped at the blood that had dripped from his nose, smudging the once clean skin above his upper lip.

"Are you alright?"

He swallowed hard. He _had to be._ Not only for himself, but for her – and for their merry band of misfits waiting for them in the conference room. "I'm fine." He told her. "I'm just – breathing."

She was silent for a moment, pausing to come up with the right answer. "Okay. I'll be in the main area, if you need me."

_If you need me._ He needed her more than anything – the last month, when he'd thought she was dead and the realization of never getting to hold her again was always on his mind, pushing all other thought aside (everything, even the escape, had been about her – about the revenge that he needed, which he hoped would somehow still his ache), had been unbearable. And now she was here, telling him she was around if he needed her. It was a statement cocooning a silent question. A question that was answered with a screamed affirmation. He DID need her, and he hoped she knew.

Sara

He was hiding something from her. She could tell by the way he walked into the room, the ease with which he used to had disappeared and had made way for a rigidness that only she could detect. Sara let out a slow sigh. Here they were, a long way from Fox River – and so much had changed – but apparently, Michael Scofield would still have questions surrounding him, just like he had back then. Questions that HAD answers, of course, but the real question was whether or not he would share them with her.

"_This is the part where I don't answer you.."_

He walked over to stand behind her, and with one arm sneaking around her waist he gently pulled her into him. Sara placed a hand on his arm and turned her head a little, searching his face. He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but return it.

Lincoln called out to him, and Michael reluctantly let her go to join his brother, but not before pressing a small kiss to her temple, making her close her eyes in contentment. She'd just come out and ask him, she decided. The next time they were alone.

She walked over to Alex. The man who had once held her at gunpoint, but was now…good? The whole conspiracy confused her beyond belief. Lincoln's spite towards the man was something she'd have to get into, too.

Her life was becoming so complicated..She supposed that part of her missed the days when all she had to worry about was the father/daughter issues in her life, or which movie to rent on a Saturday night. She'd cuddle up on the couch and smile through another of the sappy romantic movies that she loved so much. Then Michael had come along, and the movies had left her feeling wanting more– wanting _him._ Before she knew it, her father was dead, she had had to run away from her couch and Michael was sending her origami cranes to tell her he was sorry for betraying her. She ran away from him, then ran to him only to lose him again in his sacrifice for her – and then she was captured by the Company, to be tortured and presumed dead. Through it all, her love for and wanting of Michael had not changed, and it was – as she had told him on the train towards Chicago – one of the things that kept her going.

"Alex."

He nodded briskly, not even turning his head to face her. He was perched on the side of one of the metallic tables and he seemingly stared into a great void. "Hello Sara."

"Are you alright?"

Alexander Mahone inhaled sharply, which led to her believing that he was in fact_ not_ alright, even though he might want the rest of the men to think otherwise. But she wasn't one of them, and she felt an overwhelming need to help him, ease his pain. Maybe even protect him from the darkness that threatened to consume him. She remembered the time when they'd been alone together in the hotel room in Chicago and he'd told her about the pills.

"You know that…you can always talk to me?"

He shook his head. "That won't be necessary, doc."

"You're right, it may not be 'necessary', but it might make you feel a little better…to know that you're not fighting this battle alone. To know that there are people that want to listen." Her voice was soft – she hoped that she could get through to him. Break the hard shell around him and talk to him, make him understand…

He chuckled bitterly. "Is that what they tell you at AA?"

It stung. She wouldn't pretend that it didn't. "You're right, Alex. Good hit."

"I'm sorry." Alex voice _did_ sound apologetic, but Sara knew better than trust mere words. She held up her hand to silence him and walked away, needing for some alone time. The AA. It seemed like another world – another lifetime.

_I want to help people get to where I am._ "You know what, Alex.." she turned back towards him and strode towards him. "I _have_ been in some very dark places and I know that I could have avoided some of them. But from what I remember, so have _you_. So don't judge me for wanting to help you. Because I do, Alex. That's all I want to do, to help. If you won't let me, then that's your problem, not mine."

Sara walked away again, feeling good about the small blow she had delivered to his shell. She'd get through to him. She would.

Michael

"Six heads to the monsters : that's six cards, in the hands of six people." Michael stated. "Now we only have to figure out who the other five are."

He saw Alex walk towards them out of the corner of his eye and knew that he was lucky to have him on the team. Alex was a smart man, a planner. But also, Alex had been inside of the bad guys' domain, and was therefore the most experienced of them all. "Alex, any ideas?"

Mahone slowly lowered himself onto a chair and twisted his hands together. He was nervous about something, he was distracted. "None specific." He sat upright. "But you say that this man was a CEO of a big company? Maybe we should investigate the alliances of his company with others, investigate the top dogs and see if they could be related to the company? Watch the man himself and see who he associates with?"

Sucre shook his head. "And exactly _how _do you plan on watching the guy when he's surrounded by piranhas the whole damn time?"

Lincoln grinned at Roland. "Hey gadget guy, any other tricks up you sleeve?"

Roland returned it eagerly. "You mean, like a camera?"

"Something like that…" Michael amended.

"You mean something like this?" He held a little black pin up between his thumb and index finger. "You do have to get close to pin it on, though. This little guy sees everything its target sees – hears everything too. It's like you're there."

"Only problem is, you actually _have_ to be there to pin it on him…"

"Exactly."

* * *

_Okay, so what did you guys think? Good, bad? Please let me know! Pleaaase?_

_XO, as always_


	3. Chapter 3

Michael

"So how do we do that?"

Sucre shook his head. "The only thing I've seen fighting with the guy was his driver. Seems like he's the only one who can get close to him."

"So we switch the drivers…" Brad jumped in. "with one of our own. Any idea who that's going to be?"

All heads turned towards Alex, who appeared to be deep in thought. "I think I should go." He finally said. "I've _been_ a driver for the company once, remember? I've been around that driver, I know how he acts – how he rests, how he moves – I've seen every detail." He looked at Roland. "Do you think you could maybe write me a convincing resume?"

"Yeah, it's not a problem. Just tell me what you want, and I'll put you into the records."

Michael nodded. "Next thing we have to do, is take out the real one. D' you reckon he's a freelancer or works with a company? If he's involved with a company, then that's where we'll start. Can someone figure that out for me?"

Roland peered at him from behind his laptop screen. "I'm already on it. Works with a security company, that _provides you all the protection you might need. We guaranty you your safety. 'LDC security, the only safe option.' _" He quoted from the website. "Well," he grinned at the screen. "Not when I'm done with you, you're not."

"Okay, so next thing we need to is _convince_ the real driver to take the day off, then call the mansion – tell them we're from LDC and that the assigned driver will be changed to Alexander Mahone." Michael grinned. "Let's get to it."

-

Sara

The bed dipped a little lower when he came to sit on it. Sara looked up from her book, folded the corner of the page and closed it altogether. Michael noticed the action and smiled at her while attempting to take his shoes off. The laces were giving him a hard time, and to make matters worse, he felt another nosebleed coming on. He tried to level his head, attempting to stop the blood from falling, and was relatively successful covering the action up with a big sigh to feign utter annoyance with his shoes.

Sara chuckled and got out of bed to crouch down next to his feet and untangle the almost impossibly difficult knots he'd managed to make. "If you're like this now, I can't imagine what you'll be like at 60."

"Well, you'll just have to stick around to find out, won't you?" He countered playfully.

"I guess I will.." she said, pulling off both of his shoes. "You ready to go to bed?"

He nodded. "I just have to use the bathroom once more."

A frown appeared on her face as she watched his retreating back. He'd just _gone_ to the bathroom. Brushed his teeth and everything, so there was really no reason for him to disappear again. She shook her head – when he came out of there, they'd talk. She'd ask him questions…and make sure he'd answer them.

The door creaked open and he reappeared, slightly paler than before and a mask of determination covering his face. She'd have none of it.

"Michael," she began as he crawled under the covers next to her and he looked at her, lying down while she still sat upright. She groaned. His eyes weren't going to make this any easier for her, especially when he was looking so…cute yet devilishly handsome. He resembled a small boy looking up to his mother as she read him a bedtime story, yet also a grown man, looking at the woman he loved. She took a deep breath. "I need you to know that if we're going to be together, we have to be completely honest with each other…So I will need you to _let me in_ and tell me what it is that you're hiding from me right now."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him short. "And don't you dare say that there's nothing wrong and that you're _fine_ because even though you might not know this, but I've always been able to tell when you were lying to me. So do me a favor, Michael – don't do it. Don't lie to me."

He propped himself up on his elbows, staring at a random spot on the opposite wall instead of at her. He could feel her eyes burning on his face and wished she wasn't so good at reading him. He knew she'd notice sooner or later, but wanted her to remain clueless...like Lincoln was.

"It's nothing.." he whispered, "I'm just writing it off to the grief I felt and the stress that I knew was attacking my body – it's probably just responding to this whole situation."

"How? How is it responding?" An ease had settled into her stomach. Michael was talking to her, not about some big dark secret he was keeping from her, but about some form of physical discomfort. She was a doctor – she knew about the human body – she'd be able to help him. Yet at the same time fear set in. What if she couldn't? What if this was serious, what if he was really ill? She'd feel helpless, loving him so much it hurt not to be able to fix this, fix him and shelter him from what she knew she should be able to.

"I've been getting these nosebleeds," he cleared his throat for a second before continuing, "and I've lost a lot of weight in these last few weeks. I'm tired _all the time_…" he smiled," not something I can afford to be with the things were dealing with."

She nodded. "When did all of this start?"

"Few weeks ago – around the time I escaped from Sona and set out to…" He trailed off. "So I figured…" He looked at her again, trying to gage her reaction. She looked calm, he noted thankfully, and she looked beautiful.

Sara slid down to lay beside him under the covers and touched a hand to his face. "You're right," she told him, "It's probably the stress of all of this," she gestured around her, "that's wrecking your body. But I want you to tell me when you're not feeling well, okay? I _need_ you to let me in."

Michael nodded, closing his eyes, and let out a small yawn. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to worry. But I knew you'd notice."

"Does Lincoln know?"

He smiled sadly. "My big brother's still as clueless as ever. And before you say anything, no – I'm not going to tell him." He looked into her trusting brown eyes and whispered "He's not you…" before pressing a small kiss to her lips. He pulled back, then kissed her again, this time more hungrily, the need for her clearly noticeable.

"Sometimes I still can't believe you're really here." He told her later. "It's like this dream I used to have in Sona : I'd have this vision of you walking towards me but then you suddenly stopped, and when I tried to touch you my hand just…went through you, and everything felt cold."

"I'm here." Her hand caressed the curve of his neck next to his face, as it had done the first time she'd kissed him, and warmth flooded his skin. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving you ever again."

He kissed the palm of her hand, smiling against it. "Who said I'd ever let you go?"

**_reviews? anyone? thank you_**


	4. Chapter 4

Michael

The next morning, they walked out of their bedroom with identical smiles on their faces and their fingers threaded together. The conference room looked as it looked every morning – small plastic plates with less crumbs on them than were scattered on the whole surface of the table, with the others sitting at their usual seats, two empty places beside each other for Michael and Sara. It was silent – each man was wrapped up inside his own mind, fighting his own battles. Sucre was the first to notice them come in, and he smiled at their joined hands.

Michael had missed Sucre when they'd been apart. It was a little sad to think about, but apart from his brother, Michael had never really had any friends. He'd had acquaintances, but not real… then again, Michael only ever became himself inside of Fox River. When he was on the outside, he'd always had a nagging feeling that something..wasn't quite right. But then he went inside of those walls – and he found his brother again…and a friend that he would do anything for…and Sara.

She beamed up at him as he pulled her chair back for her, then reached for his hand again – not wanting them to be apart for even a second. "Morning." She nodded to the others, who grumbled their reply. Michael laughed and she looked at him, puzzled.

He leaned in, close to her ear. "We're just a bunch of grumpy men. Sometimes I wonder why you put up with us."

She smiled. "Well, there _are_ some perks to this little arrangement."

"Really now?"

"Hmm.." she hummed, then kissed the tip of his nose. He loved how she could be so affectionate towards him, even with all the men sitting around, watching them like an episode of their favorite TV-show. "Could you pass me the bread?"

He half pouted. "I might need my hand back for that."

"Why, Mister Scofield, seems like you have another one of those. I think I'll hold on to the other."

"As you wish.."

--

"So, you and Sara seem sickeningly sweet this morning." Lincoln had come to stand beside Michael as they both watched Roland work his magic on Alexander's resume. This elicited only a grin from his brother, so Lincoln nudged him again to get more out of him. "Aw, come on, man – are you going to leave me hanging like this?"

Michael turned to him and mysteriously said: "It's been a good night."

"You're no fun, you know that?"

"Au contraire, Lincoln…" Sara popped up, wrapping her arms around Michael. "Your brother can be lots of fun."

Michael pressed a kiss to her hair. "Well, right back atcha." He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. "You smell nice."

"Why thank you - I've showered."

"And you _didn't tell me?_" He looked appalled.

She laughed. "Next time, I'll send you an invite."

Lincoln cleared his throat, trying to show his discomfort to the whole situation. Sure, talking to his brother about it was okay, but did they _really _have to flirt like this when he was around? "So, Sara," he said, "I thought you were a nice girl."

"Lincoln, I'll tell you the _exact same thing _I told your brother when he first made that assumption : we all know nice girls finish last.."

"So where do you finish?"

"Wait wait," Michael told her, "I got this one : that depends on where she starts."

Sara lightly swatted him. "I'm going to start lunch…"

--

Sara

On her way to the make-shift kitchen, she tapped Sucre lightly on his shoulder. "Fernando, will you help me make lunch, please?"

He groaned. "Do I _have_ to?"

"Let's just say I'd appreciate it. And I'll stick Michael on you if you don't."

A sad look appeared on his face. "That's _so _not fair."

-

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she could tell. "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It's just – he really loves you, you know."

Sara nodded at the vegetables. "I know."

"I suppose it's the same for you?" He lightly added, but she knew it was more than that. They were having _the talk_. The best friend/girlfriend talk. The 'if you hurt him, I'll…' talk. It struck her somewhat that it was Fernando Sucre she was having this talk with, though… She half expected it to be Lincoln – then again, she supposed that somewhere she knew the bond between the cellmates had developed into a deep friendship, and it made complete sense to her.

"Yes it is." She answered him, then looked him directly in the eye. "He's my _world_, Fernando. It's always been like that," she continued, slicing the carrots. "Sure, I admit that it scared me at first, but I'm sure it was the same for him."

He looked at her confused, so she explained it to him. "I mean, I'm sure that 'Doctor Tancredi' was a factor in that plan of his, but…you know, I don't know _when_ he started to have..you know, feelings, for me, but I'm sure that Michael, his plan being what it was, perfect, didn't expect a complication like this to come along."

Sucre looked at her. "It happened pretty fast, you know? The falling for you, I mean." He took the cucumber and started to cut it. "Even before the riot, I think. But you know, after that, there was no more doubt about it. He hurt when you gave him that whole 'being professional' talk." He pulled in his shoulders, then let them fall back down. "And when he slept, sometimes he'd mumble your name. He doesn't know that, though."

Sara blushed. "I won't tell him."

"He loved you pretty soon, doctor."

"Me too." She told him.

--

She was doing the dishes (yes, she was a real Snow White, taking care of the household while the 7 dwarves were working to take down the source of all evil) when he came to her to take her up on her offer. She knew he would, eventually, she just didn't know it'd be this soon.

"Could we talk?"

She turned to him and he looked fragile to her. She'd help him. She would.

"Sure, Alex."


End file.
